Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Thanks again Bells23552!
John blinked. He and Sherlock were still laying in bed and John couldn't be happier. He sighed with contentment. It's hard to believe anything wrong could happen. John lifted his fingers up to his face, inspecting each one. What's this power Sherlock was talking about? I don't feel any different. A spot of green flashed along his fingernail. He had been seeing a lot of that color lately.
"It's what you were told it would look like." Sherlock stretched against him.
"Can you see it too?"
"Only dully. Not anywhere to the clarity you can." Sherlock reached his hand up to lace it with John's. "What color is it for you? I see a blue, like your eyes." Sherlock squeezed his hand. "I imagine, because when I think of the aether living in you, I can see it in your eyes, your soul."
John stared at the ceiling. "I see a green, that's what I was told it looked like by my mother." It had been a long while since John Watson had thought of his mom, he smiled sadly. "She said aether was what was good in the world; like how everything looked in spring time, fresh and new."
Sherlock shifted and threw draped his leg over John. "I really don't know what kind of power it will afford you. Regular aether flows inside everyone and everything, but aether that seeks one out and had has been forced out of other forms to be trapped is completely new to me."
"Could it kill me?"
Sherlock thought before he spoke. "I don't have enough information, but my personal opinion, would be no. It has no reason to kill you, even though it was forcibly obtained. In all honesty, I can't even fathom what will happen."
John shivered. "That's not a comforting thought. If you don't know, than we're in trouble."
Sherlock furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "I need to run some experiments, see what might effect it, or bring it to the surface."
"I can think of a few experiments I would like to try." John's lips sought out Sherlock.
It was a deep kiss from the start. John was becoming more comfortable with the situation. He had never really been one to kiss the same gender, but he had never been against it either. John had once made the mistake of keeping his emotions bottled up and his friend had died in battle before he had the chance to tell him how he felt. It was a bitter memory, but it gave John courage now.
Sherlock took his hand from John's and stretched it out towards his back to pull him closer. John's skin felt smooth and Sherlock pondered on the force that resided in him. It would make horrible sense that when Sherlock finally met someone he could feel whole with, they would be so extraordinary. No matter what John said or thought, Sherlock knew, with every fiber of his being, that John Watson was a great man, capable of anything.
They were still naked and John's erection rubbed against Sherlock's. John moaned into his mouth and Sherlock swallowed it up. He wanted to consume every part of John, whether it was physically or mentally. Everyone needed to know who he was spoken for.
Sherlock bite at John's lower lip until he could feel it swell. John tried to move away, but he was caught in the taller man's grip. "People are going to talk if you bruise my lip."
"Let them talk. I'll mark you like you asked, no one will second guess who you belong too."
John stopped trying to escape his arms and allowed Sherlock to do whatever he wanted. Sherlock gnawed at sensitive skin were his lip met his chin. John could feel blood pooling there, along with his crouch. He pressed his cock against Sherlock's again and slighted moved his hips in tune to Sherlock's mouth.
"Sherlock..."
He didn't think he would ever tire of hearing his name on another person's lips in such an intimate way. Sherlock was no virgin, but he had never had a connection with his sexual partners, had never wanted to hear his name play on their lips in gasping breathes.
John reached down and his hand traced along the lower dip of Sherlock's back. His fingers traced lower, hesitantly as he moved down to Sherlock's ass. It was lean and strong, just like the rest of him. John wanted to move down lower, but his arms weren't long enough. He pushed Sherlock slightly and although the connection between them was lost momentarily, the feel of Sherlock's cock on his lower stomach was just as welcome as where it had been before.
Sherlock moved down from his lips and down to his neck. He attacked it with such hunger, Sherlock left wet kisses all over his shoulder and chest, moving his way all around the areas his mouth could reach.
John blushed with the idea that fluttered over his consciousness. He moved his hand up from his Sherlock's lower half and brought it up to where Sherlock's mouth was. John placed his hand in between Sherlock's mouth and his skin. Sherlock engulfed John's two fingers with his mouth and began to suck. John was mesmerized by the sight.
John moaned and gave a few hard thrusts with his legs. He refused to be distracted and after his fingers were sufficiently covered in Sherlock's saliva he brought his hand back down to Sherlock's bottom half.
He tentatively moved a finger around Sherlock's tight entrance. Whatever Sherlock had been expecting, this wasn't it. He grunted and bite down hard on the underside of John's arm, near his armpit. John slowly worked one finger around the outside and ever so lightly put the tip of one finger in. Sherlock hissed. "Oh!"
Sherlock's hand moved down to John's cock and rubbed an open palm over it. John moved his finger in deeper. Sherlock gripped on to John and gave a light cry. John's finger was agonizingly slow as it moved up and down. He added another one and John felt Sherlock's cock twinge against him.
His fingers began to move around and it didn't take long for John's fingers to brush up along his prostate. Sherlock gave a jolt and pulled at John's cock harshly.
John used his fingers to press up it again and the noise that came from Sherlock's mouth didn't sound human. "Do you like that?" His question came out in a gasp, and John already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Sherlock say it.
"God, John." It was a strangled cry. "Fuck."
Hearing words that would normally never cross the mouth of such a prim man only served for John to press one finger pad down hard and move in a rotating motion.
"John, I'm so close."
Sherlock's hand momentarily stopped their movements on John's cock, too distracted to pay attention to the other man. John growled. "If you stop, I will too." Sherlock quickly rubbed his thumb on the lower side of John's cock, taking up a faster pace than before.
Suddenly John was right at the pinnacle too. His fingers took on a frantic speed and Sherlock came in a violent spasm. Sherlock's hand never stopped, even as he shook with pleasure. John came the next moment, exploding all over Sherlock's hand. He had cupped his hand around the tip of him, but come still seeped through his fingers.
Sherlock brought his fingers up to his mouth and John watched as Sherlock licked them clean. John was dizzy with the whole high, and giggled. Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow. "This is so insane."
"I fail to grasp your meaning."
John silently racked with giggles. "I mean, we're grown men! In my wildest dreams I didn't think I had this type of stamina."
Sherlock's eyes began to glow.
"I suppose I bring the best out of you."
John's hand touched Sherlock's belly and he traced some of Sherlock's come in his lower curls. John gave an evil smirk. "And I you.
John would have loved spending all their time in bed, but sheets need to be changed and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, John's stomach was growling. "I'm going to wash up." Sherlock gave him an odd look.
John's eyes smiled. "I suppose 'we' can wash up." Sherlock followed dutifully behind. As he turned on the tap, Sherlock went about laying his clothes out. John was shocked when he came out to see his clothes also spread out on his bed as well. "You like that shirt, don't you?" It was cream in color; it was one of John's favorites too.
"I don't like white on you." Sherlock walked past him and into the bathroom, John followed close behind. The bathwater feel cool and refreshing against John's sweat stained skin. He didn't like the fact that it was wiping away the smell of sex from them, but a Sherlock that smelled of his soap was also a tantalizing thought.
He used a washcloth to massage Sherlock's arms and back. Sherlock moved into his touch like a cat; arching his back and moving his head in search of John's hand. John swore he could hear him purr, it calmed John. Such an intimate gesture, allowing one's self to be washed by another person, and John took full advantage of it. Sherlock kissed him, tasting not only John but the faint smell of soap played along his tongue. He moved the cloth across John's chest and paid close attention to his shoulder blades.
They stood up and washed each other off with the small shower head. Reluctantly, John toweled off and went to the water basin to shave. Sherlock watched him as he rubbed the water out of his hair with a towel.
John was struck with how domestic the whole ritual felt. Morning sex, shower, shave and breakfast. John looked at the happy reflection staring back at him and hoped that the start of every morning could be so sweet.
His head was swimming. John felt faint but somehow managed to right himself. He opened his eyes and the blare of "Welcome aboard the Nautilus. We hope your stay aboard..." John shook his head and opened his eyes. The late evening sun burned his eyes and he leaned against his cane.
It took John's head a moment to stop pounding, he could feel his heart beating in his chest a mile a minute. John let out a strangled breathe and quickly sucked in another one. What am I doing here? What was I doing? His thoughts flooded in. I was shot. I visited Harry. I'm on my way back to London. John took in the huge dirigible before him and his mind calmed. Of course, how could I have forgotten something like that?
The line moved along and John found himself squinting against the change in light as he entered the Nautilus. He collected his key from the reception desk, and made his way to his room 242D. He opened the door and felt a sudden rush of loss; something felt out of place. He quickly dismissed the thought and moved over to the wing chair.
John remembered the novelette he had purchased, but he didn't feel like reading. Instead he got up from the chair and left the cabin. He stopped to listen to the automatons play a well-known piece of classical music. His ears pricked up at hearing the violin and John smiled at the sound of it. John wrinkled up his nose and walked past the band.
He felt the urge for a cigarette and made his way out to the terrace. It was enclosed in glass but smoking was still allowed. John took a long drag and exhaled the smoke. It burned in his lungs, but he found that suddenly he craved the feeling; like nothing felt real and he needed the pain to confirm that he was still awake.
His thoughts were broken into when he felt the presence of another person standing next to him. His eyes darted to the side and he was rewarded with a view of a gorgeous woman. Her features were dark and her lips were a ruby red. One of her eyebrows shifted up and she smiled. John's heart skipped a beat.
"Hello Doctor."